


Backstreet Sin

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Name-Calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5375459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham and Connor up to no good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backstreet Sin

**Author's Note:**

> An early Christmas present for all my fellow sinners ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Happy holidays!

Haytham sometimes wondered why he still bothered to let Connor tag along with him during his errands. His presence sometimes proved amusing, true, but more often than not he served only as a constant source of aggravation for the Templar.

Connor would often stop to speak to couriers and merchants or tear down the occasional wanted poster, and sometimes he even stopped just to pat a stray dog or cat.

Really, it was like dealing with a child.

"You realise we are here on business, and not merely on a trip into town," Haytham said, irritated. "My time is limited; stop wasting it with such petty diversions."

Connor looked sulky, but he took back his hand from giving the dog a good scratch behind the ears (much to its disappointment) and returned to Haytham's side.

Haytham steadfastly ignored the animal's devastated whine and resumed his long strides down the main street, satisfied when Connor followed at his heels.

"Maybe I would respect your need for urgency if I actually knew what we were doing," Connor commented mutinously.

"It is not important that you know, but that you obey," Haytham replied sternly, much to his son's disgust.

"I am not one of your Templar lackeys, to bow and scrape and say ‘yes Master Kenway' at your every word," he retorted waspishly.

Haytham's mouth twitched. "Pity."

Connor scowled, but said nothing more.

Apparently reaching his destination, Haytham led Connor up to the rooftops to eavesdrop on a clandestine meeting between a couple of suspicious-looking Bluecoats and a nervous civilian.

It appeared they were making a transaction of some sort, as the man handed the soldiers some money and then shook both of their hands.

"Strange," Haytham muttered. He could see no material goods being exchanged, only a verbal agreement of some kind. He would have to get closer.

"Stay here," he ordered Connor, then slipped down to a lower level, alighting silently on a nearby chimneypot.

"...and you guarantee my safety?" the civilian was saying.

"Of course," one of the soldiers replied, sounding bored. "As far as Lexington."

Haytham snorted to himself. He wondered if the soldiers' commanding officer knew they were selling themselves as mercenaries. Perhaps it was a protection racket they were conducting. He certainly wouldn't put it past this rabble.

The scrape of heels on tiling caught his attention, though fortunately not that of the men below.

Haytham shot Connor a look of supreme irritation as his son climbed up the nearby roof to join him. He put his finger to his lips in a clear order for silence.

Connor brazenly ignored him, sidling up close to whisper, "They are not real soldiers."

Haytham glanced back down at the men and found that the Assassin was correct. Their crossbelts were crooked and one of them had neglected to button his spats all the way down to the ankle so that they flared out loosely at the bottom. Such dishevelment would garner harsh discipline were a soldier caught by his superior in such disarray, and a real Patriot would be unlikely to risk such punishment. These men must be criminals and racketeers posing as infantry belonging to the Continental Army, but such activity was not really any of Haytham's concern.

He huffed in annoyance for having wasted his time, and turned to leave.

Connor had other ideas.

Edging over to the side of the roof, he paused for a breath, and then pounced on the nearest man in uniform, knocking him to the ground with his hidden blade held to his throat. "Give back the money," he snarled.

The civilian looked ready to bolt, but stayed long enough to catch the money as it was tossed his way and then tore off down the narrow alleyway without so much as a ‘thank you.'

The criminal not currently pinned to the ground spat at Connor. "Piss off, savage."

Haytham bristled at such blatant disrespect, and dropped down to ground level to grab the offending man tightly by the throat and trap him against the nearby wall.

"What in God's name-" his captive demanded, eyes widening in fear as he followed his exclamation with several expletives.

Haytham tutted. "Such foul language," he said, easily holding the man in place. "Tell me, Connor," he turned slightly to face his son, "what exactly is your plan for these two?"

Connor cocked his head at the trembling man pinned beneath his weight. "I am not sure," he answered honestly. He hadn't waited to form a plan before springing into action.

Haytham sighed and exchanged glances with his prisoner as if to say ' _sons_.' 

"Let us dispose of them then," he said calmly, and before Connor could protest he had neatly slashed the man's throat.

"Father!" Connor scolded. "You cannot just kill every man you do not like."

Haytham scoffed, letting the dead man fall to the ground. "Why not?"

The man Connor held trapped saw his opportunity and took advantage of the Assassin's inattention to kick him off and make a mad dash for freedom.

Connor huffed in annoyance and easily took him down again with a well-placed rope dart. "I was not finished with you," he scolded even he began to untie him. "You will cease these fraudulent operations in the city, and if I catch you again I will let the Patriots make an example of you for misusing their uniform."

The man nodded shakily, cheeks pale. "Thank you, sir."

"Go," Connor ordered.

As he was rolling the rope dart back up to tuck into his coat, Haytham took it from his hands to examine it. "I haven't seen one of these for a good long while," he commented. "From Achilles' collection I presume?"

Connor snatched it back and put it away, disliking his father's derisive tone when mentioning his Mentor.

Not at all dissuaded by the younger man's hostility, Haytham took hold of Connor's wrist and then the other, forcing him backwards to pin him against the brick behind him. Connor did not resist, though his eyes flashed with annoyance. For a moment there was a brief flicker of heat as well, swiftly suppressed.

"The nerve of you, boy," Haytham began severely, trapping Connor further with his body flush against his. "Such wilful disobedience you've displayed. Did I not say to be still and silent?"

"Not here," Connor snapped, squirming, though not truly making an effort to free himself. "We could be seen."

"Oh?" Haytham leaned in yet closer, his mouth brushing Connor's ear. "How disastrous _that_ would be." His lips curved. "I think you rather like it."

Despite his elevated breathing, Connor's voice was steady as he demanded, "Like _what_?"

Haytham chuckled, then without warning twisted his son around so he was facing forward, his cheek against the hard brick, the Templar pressed solidly against his back. "The _danger_ of it," he purred.

Connor likely would have protested but an insistent hand had found its way between his legs and was stroking him languorously, making him groan low in his throat and rock back against his captor.

"You do, don't you," Haytham murmured. "The risk, the lack of caution. You _revel_ in it."

The Assassin couldn't help moaning at the silken words, and he wrenched one arm free to muffle the sound, both to decrease the likelihood of detection and to rob his father of the satisfaction. He was unsuccessful in the latter however; Haytham was fully aware of the effect he was having on his son.

He continued, "How do you think they would react if they could see you now? Trapped and panting for it like a common whore. How would your friends, your Assassins?" He lowered his voice, "Your precious Davenport?"

Connor growled and pushed back against the Grand Master, though he succeeded only in grinding back against the man's cock and cementing his suspicions.

"Just as I thought," he commented, voice rich with satisfaction as he let his hips rock forward in a slow undulation. He chuckled, breath warm against Connor's ears. "You little harlot."

The name made Connor's blood run hot in his veins, though it was not from anger or indignation. He made to twist back to face Haytham but was held firm, though the older man indulged him after a moment, easing back just enough to let Connor turn and capture his mouth.

Haytham smiled against his lips, curbing him with sharp nips whenever Connor dared try and take control of the kiss. It was an awkward angle for Connor, but he made the best of it, and had to work hard to prevent a bereft whine from escaping his throat as Haytham pulled away again and shoved him back against the brick.

"My my, aren't you eager today?" he teased wickedly, lifting the hand that had been fondling Connor's cock through his breeches to slip beneath his shirt and toy with a nipple.

"Stop this," Connor groaned, flattening himself more firmly against the wall so he could rub his hardness against the solid surface.

"Hush, Connor," Haytham chided, and satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, used his free hand to slip two fingers into the Assassin's mouth.

Connor made no attempt to conceal his eagerness as he let his tongue twine between the two digits, sucking lightly.

Haytham laughed quietly and pressed a lingering kiss just below Connor's ear. "Do you want to come?"

Did he? Though lust was fogging his brain, Connor was still dimly aware of the fact that while they were currently alone in their dingy little alleyway, they were scarcely in private. Wouldn't it be better until they were safely hidden within four walls..?

"Please," he breathed, kissing Haytham's fingertips.

"Darling boy," Haytham said fondly, giving his cheek an approving pat. "Let's take care of you then."

Wrapping one arm around Connor's waist to hold him still, he shaped himself against his back so Connor could feel his stiffness. Then, reaching back down into his son's trousers, he cupped him teasingly and began to stroke.

Caught between the wall and Haytham's merciless fingers, it took only a moment or two for Connor to spill, gasping and panting as he felt his essence beginning to seep into his clothing.

Haytham withdrew his hand, carelessly wiping it on the fabric of Connor's breeches and ignoring his huff of protest. "Now then," he said, voice rough with his own desire. "Why don't you be a good boy and kneel for your father."

Connor hastened to obey, dropping at once to his knees in the middle of the alley and unlacing Haytham's trousers with fingers that trembled ever so slightly in their eagerness.

Freeing the Templar's flushed cock, he immediately mouthed along the length of him, though he was much too keen for a taste to tease for long.

Haytham groaned softly as his son took him between his lips and began to suck.

"If only your Brotherhood could see you now," he muttered, still enjoying baiting Connor. "On your knees for a Templar."

Connor moaned shamelessly around his prick, imagining their faces of disgust and dismay. He would be shunned, cast out, all for the love of his father's cock.

"You're picturing it aren't you," Haytham's voice sounded very far away, shrewd and sly. "Perhaps they'd like to see you. Perhaps they'd wish it was them you were sucking with such desperate abandon." He laughed darkly. "They can dream."

The Assassin sucked harder as though in agreement, reaching up with one hand to lightly cup Haytham's balls in a gentle caress.

Biting down on a curse, Haytham came down his throat, breathing heavily for a moment before reaching down to haul Connor to his feet and crush their mouths together.

Connor went willingly, breathlessly, letting Haytham release his excess frustrations upon him as he was kissed fiercely.

"You belong to me, you understand," Haytham growled as he pulled away. "Only me."

Vaguely Connor felt he should protest, but the words had filled him with a contented kind of warmth, and he hummed in agreement as he dozily nuzzled at Haytham's jaw.

Haytham kissed him once more, rough and biting, and then released him. Turning on his heel he began to stride down the alley, swiftly relacing his trousers as he walked.

Smiling slightly, Connor could only follow.

**Author's Note:**

> Go read [Revolution Evolution](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5329946) by Contraband. Trust me.


End file.
